


the thistle and the rose

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [65]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: James Fraser is a knight. Lady Claire MacKenzie is Colum's wife. Together they imagine a life that will never be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/161204571958/there-is-a-song-by-the-fast-romantics-called-why) on tumblr

**Original prompt:**

 

There is a song by The Fast Romantics called "Why we fight" and ever since the first time I heard the song on the radio, I always thought it really fits Jamie and Claire's passionate relationship, and would make a really good AU prompt or fic. Do love all the mod's writing! :)

 

> In our bedrooms we are free   
>  deep in the guts of me   
>  I love you violently   
>  until the dawn’s early light   
>   
>  This is why we fight 
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
>  

Cool, fresh air whipped Claire’s face, the mad curls of her hair pushing free, her whole body thrumming with *life.*

Still she urged her horse to go even faster, galloping across the open field, leaping over streams and shearing the tops off wildflowers. Chasing the horizon.

So alive – and free – and full of joy.

Especially because of the man racing on his horse beside her – his red curls whipping around that fine, strong jaw she ached so deeply to touch, his blue eyes smiling in disbelief at her antics.

For she trusted him with her courage, and her daring, and her thirst for life. And he cherished them for the rare gifts that they were.

—

They hobbled the horses in their customary spot – a glade within the trees, on the far edge of the estate. Very private.

Three years now they had raced their horses – challenged each other. Always ending up at this same spot, which he had discovered by accident and which she loved as the one place she felt safe.

For here it did not matter that she was Lady Claire MacKenzie, wife of Lord Callum MacKenzie, an intimate of the King’s and one of the largest landowners on the border with Scotland.

It did not matter that he was Sir James MacKenzie Fraser, nephew of the Lord (via an acknowledged bastard line), an outlaw from his native Scotland come into the service of his feeble-bodied uncle. Who protected that which was valued most dear – the Lady Claire, sole heiress of the Beauchamp lands that had been subsumed into the MacKenzie holdings upon their marriage five years previously.

In this glade – cut off from the manor, and Court, and the stables, and everyone who constantly sought to isolate them and mold them into people they did not want to be – he was Jamie, and she was Claire, and they found refuge in each other.

“Tell me again,” she whispered, watching him play with the fingers of her right hand. Settled against a live oak whose trunk was wide enough to cradle the both of them – miles from prying ears – they dreamed.

“We’d sleep in my parents’ room,” he began, “in the bed I was born in. I’d wake ye wi’ the dawn – just when it’s light enough to see yer bonny face – and love ye, quiet, as the sun came up.”

She swallowed, and he dug his nail into the lines of her palm. She gasped.

“And ye’d ken in that moment just how much I love ye, Claire.” His voice rasped hot against her neck. His face turned against her cheek, nuzzling. “I’d freeze that moment in time, if I could – if it meant forever. Forever wi’ ye.”

She squeezed his fingers – watched his knuckles pop white – wanting. Wanting so much more than she could ever offer him.

“And then I’d hold you so close to me,” she swallowed. “Not believing what we have is real.”

Claire inhaled deeply – then released. “And then we’d need to scramble for our clothes because the children would come in.”

She felt his smile. “Aye – all of them, all at once. The eldest holding the youngest by the hand – settling into bed wi’ us.”

“And we’d hold them, and love them – let them know how much they were wanted.”  

“Because they are a blessing from God. And they will have choice over everything in their lives – how to live, where to live. What to do. Who to marry.”

Jamie undid the button at her wrist, snaking one large finger to trace the fine blue veins there. So soft.

“And then breakfast – and then you’d be off to tend to the animals, and check on the fields.”

“Aye – and then ye’d come wi’ me, bringing all the children, and yer wee basket of herbs too. Because ye never ken when ye’ll find something ye can use for yer healing.”

They knew this story – what would, could, would never be their story – by heart. It was woven from so many hours of loneliness – longing for the life they may have had, had dreams been reality.

Claire didn’t realize her eyes were shut – or that she had been crying – until Jamie began kissing her tears away.

She swallowed down a sob – but he knew, he always knew.

“Will we still be dreaming of this life when we are old and grey, Jamie?”

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Is this – this moment now – all we will ever have?”

He kissed the edge of her mouth.

“Why do I keep dreaming of a life with you, when I know it will never come?”

He untied her bonnet, gently setting it on the grass, caressing her temples, gathering bunches of her curls into his capable hands.

“Ye keep me alive. And I ken I do the same for ye.”

He brought her brow to his, fingers tangled in her hair.

“That’s why. Even if it crushes yer heart, *mo nighean donn*. I canna live in a world wi’out ye in it.”

“But I want you to be my *whole* world.”

Fresh tears spilled. And he kissed them away again.

“Ye are, for me. Nothing matters more to me than yer happiness.”

Bravely he settled his hands on her hips – or where her hips would be, had she not been covered with so damn many layers of skirts and petticoats.

“Callum is no’ much longer for this world – everyone kens he marrit ye so that ye could tend him. You know as well as anyone – he’s no’ getting any better.”

She swallowed. “No.”

“So – when he dies, then that is our chance.”

“And what if he does not die soon?” Now her eyes opened, whisky eyes – the eyes that could get him drunk with just one glance – flashing. “He has already outlived all expectations. And then there’s Dougal – ”

“What about him?”

“You know that he’ll make a claim on me the instant Callum dies. And he’ll force me to accept him.”

“No’ if I have any say in it!” Jamie drew back, suddenly flushed. “Ye are no’ a plaything, Claire! Ye are a person – a whole, beautiful person – and – ”

“With the Beauchamp lands hanging around my neck,” she interrupted. Bitter.

“It’s my job to protect ye.” His voice was careful – measured – anger kept barely in check. “I love ye, Claire. I will fight for ye – Christ, I’d gladly *die* for ye, if ye’d let me. And if I canna protect ye at that moment – when ye’d need it the most – then I canna protect ye at all.”

He turned away, back hunched, head in his hands.

She knew better than to touch him.

“That’s why I’ve never even kissed ye, Claire. When the time comes, I want there to be no doubt. No whispers about yer virtue – no stains on yer character. For I may be many things, but I’d never play another man false. No’ where his wife is concerned.”

She crossed her legs beneath her voluminous gown, hands folded in her lap. Wanting so badly to comfort him – but damn him, he was right.

“And between now and then?”

Slowly he sat up – then crawled over to her – and took her hands in his.

“We race – and we dream – and we plan. We’ve never decided on names for the children.”

That got her to laugh – and his heart leapt at the sound of it.

“I do love you, you know.”

He kissed the back of one hand – and then the back of the other.

“I hope our son has a heart as selfless as yours.”

He smiled at her – and the world stopped.

“I hope our daughter will be as strong and confident as her mother,” he whispered.

—

The race back to the manor house was long over – and both horses slowed to a trot as they glided through the main gates.

Jamie was just behind her – befitting his station.

The stable lads were waiting to help her off her horse.

She slid to the dirt – and they bowed.

“Thank you, Sir James,” she called up to her knight, sitting quite still atop his mount.

He nodded in deference to her station.

And then she disappeared into the manor.

Jamie balled her handkerchief – which she had used to dry her brow after their race this morning, and then pressed into his hand as he helped her tie on her bonnet before leaving the glade – in his fist.

Through the upstairs window, he watched Claire enter Callum’s study and curtsy before his desk.

He said a quick prayer, then stepped out of the saddle, and led the horse to the stables to be cared for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/172592102919/i-keep-thinking-of-jennys-hostility-towards) on tumblr

Sir James MacKenzie Fraser – Jamie to his men, and to one very particular woman – sifted through the letters on his simple table, squinting in the candlelight.

Three weeks since the last news from his sister, at the family estate in Scotland. Was the family well? Was the harvest strong this year? How fared his four-year-old nephew, the namesake he had never met?

He should have written sooner – had his mind not been clouded with thoughts and fears swirling around Callum MacKenzie’s failing health, and his brother Dougal’s overtures, subtle as cannon fire, to the house and estate.

Dougal had arrived two days prior – throwing the reins of his stunning horse in Jamie’s general direction, before stomping into the house.

Dougal’s men had arrived twenty minutes later – a retinue of pages and tacksmen, led by his personal secretary. All had found lodgings in the cottages around the stables, lips very loose in sharing their master’s true intentions.

All of Callum’s worldly possessions. Including the lands held by Claire Beauchamp MacKenzie – Callum’s wife/nursemaid.

And, of course, the lovely Claire herself.

These men had never met her – could only speculate on her beauty.

Jamie had traced her face with his fingers and lips, hundreds of times. Jamie dreamed of children with Claire’s features. Jamie longed to give her the life she deserved – free from a soul-crushing marriage, free to pursue her passions.

She had not left Callum’s side for three days. Never had it been this bad.

He sighed, sinking into the chair in the corner of his tiny room. Heart calling out to the woman he could never have.

Three swift knocks at his door.

Curious, Jamie quickly crossed the room – opened the door just enough for Claire to silently slip inside – and then bolted it securely behind her.

She looked ragged. Deep smudges darkened her beautiful eyes, downcast in exhaustion. Jamie opened his arms, and then she was there. Fingers digging into his shoulders. Face pressed against his neck.

Jamie inhaled the stale sweat at her hairline, and rubbed the tight cords of her lower back, and wanted nothing more than to keep her there, with him, forever.

“May I lay beside you?” Her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Of course,” he breathed, gently leading them to his small – yet clean – bed and easing them to the mattress. Carefully he slid the lone pillow beneath her head, never breaking contact.

“It’s so warm in here,” she whispered. “It’s so cold in his chamber. Even when I heap extra logs onto the fire.”

Suddenly he realized that Claire wasn’t dressed in one of the boxy gowns she wore in public. No – today she wore a plain shift dress, with a vest and shawl and simple, practical shoes.

He could feel her shoulderblades – bony. See her collarbones – graceful. Feel the pulse in her neck calm beneath his thumb.

“When we’re at Lallybroch,” she said quietly, after a very long time. “And we’re in bed, relaxing after a long day…”

“Yes?” he breathed, not able to stop staring at her. Not able to stop himself from enjoying this time – this sacred time – with her.

“Will we lie together, like this?”

He smirked. “Not quite.”

She raised one eyebrow in question – cheek deliciously rumpled against his rough linen pillowcase.

Then he shifted so that they shared the pillow. Wrapped his arms around her – tangled his legs with hers.

“We would lie together like this,” he explained, kissing the tip of her nose, her forehead, her chin. “Because after a long day apart, I couldn’t let you go.”

Tears brimmed in her beautiful, red-rimmed eyes. He kissed them away.

“Callum is near the end.” She swallowed, gathering strength. “Dougal is waiting for him to die. And then he’ll take me – he’ll force me.”

Rage boiled within Jamie. He pulled Claire to him, so tight.

“Never,” he hissed. “That will never happen.”

“Jamie,” she gasped. “You’re crushing me…”

He let go, of course – but pulled back just enough to lock eyes with hers, across the pillow.

Steely. Strong. Determined.

“I need to take control of the situation,” she explained. “I need to hasten him. Give him a sleeping draught from which he will never wake. And then, while he sleeps, we escape.”

“I’ll do it – whatever you need, I’ll support you,” he pledged. “But when? And where will we go?”

“Tomorrow – my bag is already packed. I didn’t take much into this marriage, and I won’t be leaving with much, either. But I’ll have you, Jamie. That’s all that matters.”

“Aye,” he beamed. “It is.”

“And to answer your other question – you’ve always said you could live in the heather for a time, if you had to. I won’t mind that, as long as I’m at your side.”

“Are ye sure? ‘Tis no’ a proper place for a lady to live.”

“I’m tired of being a proper lady.”

A beat.

“Another thing. You told me about handfasting, once.”

He licked his lips, heart beginning to race. “I did.”

She edged closer to him on the pillow, lips hovering above his own.

“I want us to sleep in the heather for a while. Just until we get to my lands – my people will protect us. But when we arrive, Jamie…”

She brushed her lower lip along his upper lip. Felt him shiver all the way to his toes.

“I want to handfast with you. So that when we arrive – I’m just Claire Beauchamp Fraser. And between the two of us, we own the lands. And nobody – not even Dougal – can get to us.”

Speechless, he said the only words that his mind could process.

“I love you.”

She sighed, so happy. “I do love you, Jamie.”

Two hours later, clad in Jamie’s spare cloak, the hood covering her wild curls, Claire slipped out of the servants’ quarters, Jamie a dark shadow behind her, dun bonnet covering his bright hair. On a moonlight hunt for nightshade.


End file.
